


What Our Creators Make Us

by Jenivi7



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Drinking, Explicit Language, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-08
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29374734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenivi7/pseuds/Jenivi7
Summary: "Marik finds something to amuse himself on a dark evening." Psychoshipping (Bakura x Marik). Originally for Compy's Pairings Challenge back in 2008. Now with a Part 2 found hidden within my writing folder!
Relationships: Bakura Ryou/Marik Ishtar, Bakura Ryou/Yami Bakura, Marik Ishtar/Yami Marik, Yami Bakura/Yami Marik
Kudos: 7





	1. Part 1

"Well, well." The match flared, scattering dark shadows until it was blown out and the only light that remained was the red glow from the cigarette end. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"Funny, I seem to recall _knowing_ I wouldn't see you again."

"I'll do you one better, for a while there, _I_ didn't think I'd ever see me again."

"Crazy motherfucker."

"We only are what our creators make us."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. How sane could a being born from one stupid kid's schizophrenia possibly be? And what about you?"

"Shut the fuck up and give me one of those matches." Bakura shook a cigarette loose from his own pack.

"No. Let me."

Bakura flinched backward with a snarl as Marik got too close.

"That was the last one."

"The fuck it was," but he put the cigarette to his lips and didn't back away a second time as Marik invaded his personal space, lighting the end with his own and letting his hands remain cupped around the two cigarettes longer than necessary until the thief shook him off and set out walking in his original direction.

Marik trotted a few paces to catch up.

"What about you," he repeated. "What did that pretty little white haired priss give you besides his looks?"

The point of a knife at his throat stopped him and he grinned into Bakura's cold stare.

"Ah, right, right, I get it. The kid's off limits." The edge was removed and Bakura continued walking.

"So does that mean you fucked him or he kicked you out but you'd still fuck him if given a chance?"

This time he had to jump back to avoid a flying swipe that would have taken his head part way off.

Bakura glared at him briefly before tucking the knife back into his jacket.

"Fucking asshole," he muttered under Marik's laughter and continued walking.

Marik continued following.

And they did so in silence until Bakura's irritation piqued again.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Having more fun than I would have hanging out in a smoky bar. Is this you?" He gestured to the house they were stopped in front of. "Nice. More than I'd think a thief, even one of your caliber, would be able to afford, however."

Bakura didn't answer the challenge, just fished out a key.

"Ah I see. So the kid didn't kick you out after all."

"Fuck off."

"I'd rather fuck you."

Bakura considered him for a moment then dropped the cigarette on the porch, extinguishing it with his heel.

"Only if you bottom," he said and didn't object when Marik followed him into the house.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long lost follow-up, now with Bronzeshipping, Angstshipping and Tendershipping!

"If you're going to have someone ever, would you kindly keep it down."

Bakura didn't respond, but then, he never responded to any of Ryou's requests and neither looked in the other's direction for the rest of the morning.

* * *

"Why should I care who he sleeps with?"

"Because you've complained about it ten times in so many minutes?"

"Because I couldn't get any sleep! I don't care if he brings someone home or who he brings home or what they do when they're there as long as they're quiet."

Ryou fidgeted under Malik's disbelief.

"I don't!"

* * *

"You are an idiot."

"And you are an asshole." Bakura looked up at his unwelcome company. "I'm so glad we had this chance to sort that out."

He glared hard but his old enemy didn't leave. Maddeningly, he took a barstool next to Bakura and ordered a drink.

"When you spend so much time protecting someone like we did, it's natural to form an attachment."

"Do NOT imply that we're the same and I do NOT know what you're talking about." Bakura's own glass hit the bar harder than necessary and he left before he broke the only promises keeping him here by killing Atemu like he should have done the first time around.

* * *

"Look, I'm just saying that you don't have someone inside your head without growing to love them or hate them and I know you don't hate him."

"I can't believe you're implying that! It's not- You're the one I'm seeing right now," he said in exasperation, trying to put an end to the conversation before it progressed any further into territory he had avoided ever since the spirit's return.

"Ryou . . . We've never been more than friends who sleep together. You don't have a place in your heart for me like that." The statement was simple and quiet and Malik hurried on in a normal tone of voice as though it hadn't been said. "Anyways, it's alright, sometimes Marik and I . . ."

Ryou's eyes narrowed and his gaze became sharp in a way that Malik could feel, causing him to fumble what he was going to say.

"Marik . . . and I . . ." he hesitated, then took a deep breath. A very deep one. "You know there are days when I'm perfectly ok and then days when I'm not, doing so good, and well he has the same cycles and we don't mean for anything to happen but it just does and it's a good thing that it does because it keeps either of us from really loosing it." What was once secret was spoken in a rush and Malik let blond hair fall over his face to keep from having to see Ryou's reaction.

A long moment passed. And then Ryou stood and left.

* * *

"Ryou?"

"I don't care who you bring home, who you sleep with, and I don't hate you but it definitely doesn't mean the other thing!"

Accusatory, confrontational, and shouted loud enough for the neighbors to hear and all Bakura could do was stare after his counterpart in bafflement as he disappeared into his room and slammed the door hard enough to shake the frame.

* * *

Marik was the one who had trouble with personal pronouns but sometimes even Malik became confused. Was he Malik, was he Marik, was he both, was he neither? He was himself but what meaning did that hold. Who was himself? Sometimes there was only one way to find out.

* * *

Sometimes . . .

Hands all over and mapping every inch of skin, every imperfection, everything beautiful, discovering each for the first time even as each had always been there.

Sometimes . . .

One was always inside and one was always filled and it never changed but it was new each time.

Sometimes . . .

Pleasured cries broke the thick black night and they were separate and one and all and nothing.

Sometimes the lines between them had to be blurred entirely before new ones could be drawn.


End file.
